Chapter 11:

The air was crisp in the brisk hours before dawn. Mahvir sat by the smoldering remains of last night's fire. A blanket was drawn over his shoulders in a pointless attempt to keep out the chill. He shivered and tugged the blanket further around him. In the early hour, he was the only one awake. He had told Vir to get some sleep after waking in the middle of night. At first the sentinel had refused, until Mahvir pointed out Vir would be of no use to anyone if he was exhausted.

Mahvir stoked the embers with a stick. A few sparks flew up into the dark, cold air. The fire wasn't brought back to life. The coal wasn't enough to feed it and he didn't want to use the precious little fuel remaining. It would be needed when the others woke for breakfast.

Instead he kept close to the little heat the embers provided.

Soon the sky started to grow gray with the first rays of the rising sun. Mahvir pulled himself to his feet. A sharp pain lanced through his bad leg. He ignored it and set to work on getting breakfast ready for when the others woke. Cassandra had pointed to where she kept the food in the saddle bags incase he was the first to wake. So, he kept his word to her, and was the one to start making breakfast.

There was the soft padding of feet, followed by a flutter of fabric. Nimwen said nothing as she sat down. She stared at the dead fire, her blanket pulled around her shoulders. Her eyes were still lined red, and the shadows beneath spoke of a sleep empty of comfort. She held the ends of her blanket in her fist. Her other arm was devoid of its prosthetic.

"It won't always be like this," Mahvir told her as he started to place kindling onto the embers. He was careful to keep them alive and not snuff out the precious sparks for the morning fire. He then stoked the embers, easing the heat up into the new kindling. A small flame flickered to life. He placed the first new wood on the fire.

Nimwen blinked, the reaction slow. She let go of her blanket and began tracing lines in the dirt with her finger. Without her holding it, the blanket slipped from her shoulders, though she seemed not to notice.

"But it's always been this way," she responded in a voice barely above a whisper. "I follow the path, but I can never reach my destination. Lathbora viran. Perhaps I am not meant to reach it?" Her finger created swirling pattern in the soil. "Perhaps what I walk is not a path, but a maze? Maybe the creator forgot to make the exit?" She chuckled, a sound devoid of humor. "Or maybe the crafter was cruel and never intended to finish his work? Isn't that a horrible thing to do, Mahvir?"

"You are not trapped." Mahvir placed another stick on the fire. "You still have a chance at happiness and the life you want with the man you love and your daughter. Will it be hard to achieve? Yes. But afterwards your life struggles will be far less and you will be happy." He gave her a small smile. "I wish I could tell you more, give you every detail of how to achieve that future, but living through pain once is bad enough and you don't need to see the possible pains to come." This wasn't the full truth. He could see many futures and in one there was more pain awaiting her. Yet, if all went as he planned, the trail to this future would vanish. She would have a happy life with her daughter and love.

"What do you think of me?" She looked up at him. Despite the redness and the shadows, her eyes were still sharp as winter. "What am I to you?"

Mahvir frowned and settled down to let the fire warm enough to start cooking. "You are a kind, generous woman. A loving mother figure to everyone, especially your daughter. That's what I see when I look at you," Mahvir replied. He looked at her. "You've been kind to me, Lady Nimwen, and this means a lot. It's people like you who remind me why I will continue the fight for our People."

"I want to help people." Her voice was steady as a Tranquil. "I have to. I see people and every hurt, every pain, they become knots I must untangle.

"I try to show others the kindness they should have had long ago, to prove to them that they are deserving of compassion." She ceased her drawing. "Maybe I work so hard to take care of everyone, because then they won't be able to see what I really am. But even that hasn't worked." Her gazed went down to her left arm, a stump hidden under fabric. "All of my kindness, is just made into weakness."

"The first question is what is it you think you're trying to hid from everyone?"

A hollow smile came to her lips. "A mess."

Mahvir stood and moved over to her. He settled himself beside her and drew her into an embrace. "You are an amazing person, Lady Nimwen. For someone like you, encountering Solas and I is what is causing you to be a mess. He will return to you. No matter what, I swear to you I won't rest until he is back with you and this world is safe."

"Ar souveri," Nimwen's voice trembled. "Ar souveri, and it's going to effect Lori. I try so hard to never let her see me upset and I do everything to look happy for her, but I know someday I will slip up. She's going to see her miserable mother for what she really is and-" Her voice hitched. "I dream of Kirkwall sometimes. Me, Lori, Solas; you, all living in that house Varric gave me. It's a much nicer place than it used to be. Comtesse Lavellan. I would trade all my titles just for that one. It's all I want, Mahvir, is it too much to ask for?"

Mahvir was able to hide the pain from her when she mentioned him in this happy world. The rift between him and Solas would be hard to repair and would only cause her more pain. "No. I will do everything in my power so you can trade all your titles for that one and live in peace in Kirkwall." He smiled at her. "Besides, I've seen what a bad mother is, Lady Nimwen, you are not one. The side of you, you hide from your daughter isn't a bad one." He took a deep breath. "Never think less of yourself because of me," - he had to remind himself to drop the "lady" once more - "Nimwen."

"It's wasn't you," Nimwen chuckled. "I think a part of me has always hated myself." She let out a small sigh, as if what she just said was nothing. "Ma serannas, for everything." She smiled at him, and it seemed real.

Mahvir wasn't fooled. "Nimwen, until you do something unspeakable you have no reason or right to hate yourself." He moved and placed his hands on her shoulders. His voice was stern. He then hesitated before he confessed, "I told Solas about Lorien."

Nimwen's eyes widened, and it was the first real emotion on her face since she sat down. "What?"

"Ir abelas." Mahvir released her shoulders and stood. He moved to start getting breakfast ready since the fire was now hot enough. "I know you wanted to tell him about her, but-" He stopped and took a deep breath. The truth, she didn't need more lies and he wasn't going to treat her like a child who needed protecting. "It was the time he needed to know," he confessed. "He's known about Lorien since she was born through his spies. He just never believed the child was his. Now, he will look into it to either prove me wrong or learn the truth."

"He...he knew?" As if it were possible, her eyes grew bigger. "He knew about Lori this whole time? He thinks she's-he thinks I-" Nimwen ran a hand through her hair. "He thought I'd moved on, just like that? He thought I'd had another man's child?!" A quiet giggle brew from her lips. It grew louder and louder. "How stupid is he?!"

"When it comes to family? Extremely. Consider this, he never guessed I was his son despite the fact Mythal named me 'secret' and the fact I was ignored by her. Either that or he's just incapable of thinking through all the pain he's caused he can be the cause one good matter in this world."

"You said he was going to look into it," Nimwen said. "What is he going to do?"

"Most likely, send his spies in the Inquisition to find out the truth." Mahvir looked away from Nimwen. "Ir abelas, Nimwen, I know you didn't want to use Lorien, but the knowledge of her existence also presented a way for us to move forward in convincing Solas to stop this madness."

"It's fine," Nimwen sighed. "I would have rathered I be the one to let him know, but I suppose it wouldn't have mattered anyway." She turned her head toward the sleeping rolls, where Cassandra and Vir still laid. "They might be waking soon. Would you like help with breakfast?"

"Well, I've been told I have no sense in taste." Mahvir chuckled. "So, yes, help would be more than welcome."

"You remind me of my brother," Nimwen said as she stood. "Sinderon couldn't go near a hearth without burning the food. Good thing he had me," she smirked. She started to dig through their rations.

"Oh, I can cook it. The food just doesn't taste right."

"Good thing you have me then." She took out a pot and what appeared to be the makings of porridge. "Can you help with this?" she asked. "You can set it up while I go put on my hook. One-handed cooking is not fun."

Mahvir bowed his head. "I can at that." He started to set up while he kept one eye on her. The prosthetic was impressive work. "Who crafted the prosthetic? If you don't mind my asking."

"Her name is Dagna," Nimwen said as she placed the prosthetic over her stump. She started to twist it, presumably to lock it in place. "She was my arcanist back at Skyhold. Despite being a dwarf, she had expertise in magic that could rival any mage. Not to mention she was incredible at enchantments. After the Inquisition left Skyhold, she did too. She opened a shop with our old smith, Harritt. I think it's in Denerim." As she made the final adjustments to her prosthetic, Nimwen smiled at the device. "She's a good friend. I still can't believe she made this for me."

"Would it be possible for me to get into contact with her? Her work is quite impressive."

"Oh, yes, you should meet her. Her work is indeed incredible and I'm sure she would be amazed with what you can do."

"I believe a letter will suffice for now." Mahvir finished getting the small pot set up over the fire. "I will have it drafted and sealed by the time we return to the Cathedral. If you would be so kind as to send it to her, I would be most grateful."

"Of course," Nimwen nodded. She peered into the pot. "Okay, while that heats up I'm going to go into the woods for a bit. I think I remember seeing some herbs that could spice this up a little." She handed him a spoon. "Stir it and keep it from burning, all right?"

"That much, I can do." Mahvir bowed his head. His mind only half on the task she had given him. Most of his thoughts were running through interpreting his toy designs with the moving halla into a working hand.

She patted his head. "I shall make a proper cook of you yet," she said with a wink. She stood up and started for the woods.

Mahvir watched her go. He made certain to keep the food from burning while he thought through the design. He would have to wait to write the letter with a rough sketch of it for Dagna, but he could still think on it and work through some of the ideas in his head. The key thing was to keep the reason he wanted to get in contact with Dagna secret from Nimwen.

"You're already awake." Cassandra sat beside the fire, buckling the last straps of her breastplate. "Where is the Inquisitor?"

"She went to find something to flavor this with." Mahvir could already taste what those spices would do and it was a struggle to keep the disgust from his face.

"You think it is wise to let her go by herself, after what happened last night?" Cassandra asked, brow raised.

"She might hit herself a few times, but she won't kill herself, Seeker. Besides she cheered up a little before leaving and I fear she might have tried to freeze me for letting the meal burn if I had offered to go with her."

"How did you know about the hitting?" Cassandra asked.

Mahvir sighed. "You already know I was Dirthamen and am a time mage. One of the perks of my abilities is that I can see possible futures, the past, and what is happening in the present. Let's just say in a possible future, she is hitting herself. In another, she isn't. Make sense?"

"Yes, though the thought is not comforting. If you truly can see the past then you must know how far she can go. After Corypheous had been defeated, and Solas had vanished, the Inquisitor fell into a deep depression. One day, Dorian and I found her punching her leg repeatedly. By the time we got her to stop, her thigh was blue as ink. She couldn't walk for days." Cassandra poked the fire. "I don't want such a thing to happen again."

"To hit the part her arm she would have to remove the prosthetic and it would take time to do so. Right now, she is still searching for those spices. If you so wish one of us could check on her." Mahvir continued to stir the porridge.

"No, if she does do something drastic, I trust you will be speak up," said Cassandra. "Because you know what will happen otherwise."

The echo of future pain washed over him, though the pain was bearable. "Trust me, Seeker, I both know and feel what would happen otherwise."

"Good." Cassandra set her stick down. "May I ask you something?"

"You just did, but go ahead." Mahvir gave her a small smile.

Cassandra made a face at his retort, but continued. "You seem to care a great deal for her. Why? Is it because of her relationship to your… father?" Cassandra spoke the last word with a twinge uncertainty, evident she still had trouble associating the word with the man.

"What you must understand, Seeker, is I didn't grow up knowing Solas was my father. Mythal kept it from everyone, including Solas. I believed Elgar'nan, Solas's older brother, was my father. It wasn't until my abilities," - Mahvir paused, while he had confessed it to Nimwen he didn't wish to reveal the cruelty of his family to the Seeker - "awoke, I knew Elgar'nan wasn't my father, but blocked the images of who was.

"To answer your question: the reason I care for her is for who she is, not who she loves. She is the first person in a long time who cares for all people no matter their past or relation."

"That she is." Cassandra's eyes turned to the woods, as if to look for Nimwen. "I fear her mind may be slipping from her," the Seeker confessed. "She is a stronger person than I, certainly more than most in Thedas, but the years have not been kind to her. I have watched the strain wear on her everyday, and have done my best to help ease her burdens, but last night was a sign. Perhaps if Dorian were here, or Cole, or even Varric, it might be different. But she is breaking, Mahvir, if she hasn't already. For her honesty, she can be rather clever at hiding her emotions." Cassandra laid her chin on her linked fingers, a sigh escaping. "I consider Nimwen to be among my closest friends, and am worried she will get lost in herself."

"If we fail then it is very likely she will lose herself. Right now the only thing keeping her sane is Lorien." Mahvir let out a long, low breath. "I'm not helping much either. I fear her learning Solas had a child with Mythal wasn't a good morale boost."

"No, but it is better she learned sooner than later. I'm certain she would not appreciate you keeping it a secret and finding out later." Cassandra's glanced at the ground, before she did a double-take. "What's this?" Her brow furrowed. "Did you draw this?"

"No, Nimwen did."

"It looks like," Cassandra squinted. "Dogs? There's two little things next to them, what are those? Do these look like cats or squirrels to you?" she asked Mahvir.

"I believe it's a family of wolves." Mahvir went off an answer he got from a possible future. "The bigger two are Nimwen and Solas. The smallest is Lorien. And the mid sized one is me." Mahvir paused. "If I confessed something to you, would not tell Nimwen?"

"So, long as it's not a threat to her life," Cassandra replied. "But go ahead."

"I wish for her to have happiness, but for her to be the happiest she wants to keep both Solas and I in her life," Mahvir started.

"That does not surprise me," the Seeker replied. "It is obvious she still cares for Solas and that she has grown fond of you as well. Why keep this a secret?"

"She can't have both of us." Mahvir stared at the breakfast. "I can help her get Solas back and aid her stopping him destroying this world. But once he's back with her, I will have to leave. The rift between Solas and I can't be repaired without him learning I am his son and even then the chances are slim. I don't - He can never know Mythal's secret."

"You would not take the chance, even if it meant an opportunity for you and them to be happy?"

"Understand, Seeker, I've wanted to tell Solas I'm his son since the day Mythal told me. I wanted him to know she wasn't all he thought she was and that she would have killed a child to keep it secret she had slept with her lover's brother. But in every future, there is one reaction which is the same upon his learning the truth. You see, when he looks at me he sees Elgar'nan and is able to compare me to whom he thinks is my father. If he learns the truth, all the evil I've committed is no longer Elgar'nan's or my own. It becomes his as well. And to have the last member of my blood, outside of Lorien, reject me…" Mahvir closed his eyes. "I can't see his expression in the present, Cassandra. It will destroy what's left of me."

A strong hand touched his shoulder.

Mahvir shook his head. "I didn't tell you for sympathy, Seeker. I told you because no matter what, I will leave. The happiest future for her is with Solas and Lorien. As far away from his past and me as she can get."

"I cannot not pretend I know more than one who claims he can see the future," Cassandra admitted. "I will trust you to do what you feel is right, and I shall be silent. But know that you're leaving will not go unmissed. No matter how happy she is, she will still wish you'd remained."

"I know," Mahvir whispered. "It's not a decision I make lightly, but I came to terms ten centuries ago my own happiness is irrelevant as long as my people are safe. I can't tell Nimwen this, she would try to fix me." He chuckled.

"She will try and help you regardless," Cassandra pointed out.

"I'm back!" Nimwen emerged from the woods, carrying herbs in her robe skirt. "These are going to make that porridge taste amazing. You'll get some real Dalish cooking, Mahvir."

"Indulge her, while you still can," Cassandra whispered to him. "She has started running out of people close to her. Let her dote on those of us who still remain."

"I planned on it, Seeker," Mahvir whispered back. Though the doting was still more than a little strange. Mahvir stood. "I look forward to trying it, Nimwen. I do believe I managed to keep the porridge from burning."

"Ma serannas," she said, giving him a side hug with her prosthetic.

Mahvir returned the hug. "Do you need help with anything?"

Nimwen took the knife at her side and gave it to him. "Help me chop this up, then hand it to me," Nimwen told him. "I still can't believe I managed to find basil and thyme out here," she smiled, looking almost giddy. "Oh, good morning, Cassandra, how long have you been up?" Nimwen asked.

"Not for too long," the Seeker replied.

"By your command." Mahvir bowed before he pulled out a small knife he used on meats the demons didn't eat.

"So what were you two up to while I was away?" Nimwen asked as she started to stir the porridge.

"Idle chat to get to know one another." Mahvir started to chop the the spices.

"Good, I'm glad you two are on better terms," Nimwen smiled. She took some of the chopped herbs and started adding it to the pot. "Lori loves this," Nimwen said as she stirred in the basil. "When I'm cooking, she's always trying to eat it."

"I'd assumed she would have stopped after the cumin incident," Cassandra said.

Nimwen snorted. "You would think so, wouldn't you?"

"She's a toddler, they tend to put just about anything in their mouths whether or not it's edible." Mahvir sat back and watched as Nimwen stirred the spices into the porridge. His expression blank though he could already taste the food he would soon be eating. Centuries of practice was all which was keeping his face even.

"Just a bit more," Nimwen murmured a she stirred in the last of the herbs. "Who knew it would be easy to stir with this thing?" She patted her hook as it held the spoon. "This thing sure does come in… handy."

Mahvir chuckled. He pulled out a few pieces of parchment and settled a little ways from the fire. He started writing the letter to Dagna. He would be sure to include a rough technical blueprint of the prosthetic he had in mind.

"Ready," Nimwen said. "Cass, go grab the bowls, and somebody go wake up Vir."

"FOOD!"

A sudden cawing cry was loud enough to make the sleeping elf jump.

The next moment, Fear landed on Nimwen's shoulder. "Food, now, little mortal!" he demanded.

"How long have you been up?" Nimwen asked the bird.

"Since before dawn." Fear fluffed out his feathers. "Hard to sleep when Dirthamen wakes screaming."

Mahvir shot a glare at the bird.

"What?" Nimwen turned to Mahvir, eyes concerned. "Is everything all right?"

"Everything is fine." Mahvir returned to the letter.

"Not when you wake screaming 'You killed her!' just about every night." Fear shook himself. "Can we eat now?" he asked Nimwen. "If not I am going to be a very upset, cranky raven."

Nimwen looked at Mahvir. "Later," she mouthed as she started to serve everyone. "All right, Cassandra, here you go."

"Thank you," the Seeker replied, taking her bowl.

"Mahvir." Nimwen handed him a bowl.

"Ma serannas, Nimwen." Mahvir took the bowl.

Fear hopped down onto his knee. Deceit landed on Mahvir's head. "You better leave me some, oaf."

"Oh, no, you are not eating Mahvir's food," Nimwen objected, wagging her finger at the birds. "You two are getting your own bowl." She poured porridge into a separate bowl and laid it on the ground beside Mahvir. "There you go."

"Our own?" Fear cocked his head to one side.

"Yes!" Deceit leapt down and dipped her head into the bowl.

"Hey! Mine!" Fear landed next to her and dunk his head in as well. Every now and again they would snap beaks at one another before returning to devouring the food.

"They thank you as well, in their own way," Mahvir told Nimwen as he watched the two ravens.

Nimwen chuckled. "I appreciate it." She turned her head. "Come on, Vir, come get it."

The sentinel grumbled and walked over to the fire looking more than half asleep. "Ma serannas," he muttered as he sat down.

Mahvir looked at the bowl. He set down the letter and took a deep breath before he took a bite. The taste clung to his tongue. He kept his expression blank as he swallowed and took another bite. He disliked food, especially having to taste it three times over.

"So how is it?" Nimwen asked him. Her eyes were hopeful.

He knew where this was going, but couldn't bring himself to tell the truth. "It's good." Mahvir smiled at her.

She burst into a grin. "I'm glad you like it," she said. "Have as much as you want, there's plenty more where it came from."

Mahvir bowed his head. He ate half the bowl before he set it down, full. He returned to the letter.

"Are you done?" Nimwen asked.

"I will take care of the bowl in a moment." He gave her another soft smile.

"All right," she responded. "It's a shame Lori isn't here, she loves porridge," Nimwen sighed. "Of course, I'm glad she's not here, I'd rather keep her from corpse-filled tombs for as long as possible."

Mahvir chuckled. "I doubt a two-year old would enjoy such places. I agree, it is no place for them." Tomb? It was a temple. Still, Nimwen was correct it was no place for a child.

"Don't think I'm going to forget," Nimwen said, eyeing his bowl. "You'd better finish that before it gets cold."

"I've eaten all I can," Mahvir spoke in even tones. He was trying to dodge eating the rest of the food. He could force himself to eat it, but he didn't want to eat more than he absolutely had to. Besides, any more of the food, and he would spend the day with both a stomachache and the echo of one.

"One more bite, and then I'll leave you alone," Nimwen compromised.

"This reminds me of Lori during that little phase of hers," Cassandra said with a chuckle.

"Don't remind me," Nimwen groaned. "I thank every known deity Lori got over that picky stage, I don't think I would have taken anymore of it."

Mahvir lifted the bowl and took a deep breath. He managed another half bite, keeping his features straight only from years of deceiving people into thinking he didn't mind food. Still, the taste of each flavor was overpowering. The spices struck him first, echoing through time and followed by the sudden bland taste of the porridge. The tastes lingered. Each clung to his tongue. Disgusting. All food was just disgusting.

"We should be heading out soon," Cassandra said as she looked at the sky. "Leliana can handle herself, but I'd rather be there in case something comes up."

"You're right, and I want to get back to Lori," Nimwen added. She looked at Mahvir. "Are you done?"

"Yes." Mahvir gathered the documents before he helped them start pick up camp. He was more than thankful for the distraction and the fact Nimwen hadn't forced him to eat all of the food and called his bluff at liking it.

"Ma serannas for eating," Nimwen whispered as they rolled up their bedrolls. "I know you don't think it, but it's important you eat."

"I know food is necessary to live, L-Nimwen," Mahvir caught himself from almost calling her "Lady Nimwen" again.

The two ravens had hopped over to Mahvir's bowl and snapped up the remains of the meal. Neither fought over it, for the first time they seemed happy and content rather than angried one might have eaten more than the other. It was rather strange.

"I see you two enjoyed it," Nimwen smiled at the birds.

"Fear got more than I did," Deceit complained. Her eyes half closed. She had nested down in the grasses to watch the group.

Fear snapped his beak from where he was nested. "If I did it was because you were too slow."

"Well, now, regardless you two need to share equally," Nimwen said.

Mahvir chuckled. "I don't think a motherly voice will have an effect on them, Nimwen."

"It's a reflex," Nimwen shrugged. "Even before I had Lori, I felt like I played the mother hen. I can't help it," she chuckled.

"So I'd gathered." Mahvir bowed his head to her. He finished helping Cassandra then stepped aside to let her and Vir load the horses. He stepped back so he stood beside Nimwen.

"We're ready when you are," Cassandra said to Nimwen.

"Well, don't let me hold us up." Nimwen mounted her horse. She seemed to be improving, though the act still looked like a challenge. "To Val Royeaux we go," Nimwen smirked.

Mahvir eyed his mount and sighed. His hip gave a small, but painful throb as a reminder of the wound. He moved over to the horse and mounted. Pain shot through his hip as he did so without aid. All of the pain was hidden behind a careful facade. Despite this, he knew he had reopened the wound by being a stubborn idiot and mounting the horse without asking for aid.

"Vir." Mahvir held out his hand to the sentinel.

"I will run and catch up," stated the sentinel. As with last time, he seemed unwilling to rid behind Mahvir.

"We have about a week of riding ahead of us, less if we push it," said Cassandra. "Let's get going."

"I can manage at a trot," Mahvir stated, knowing Nimwen wanted to return to Lorien as soon as possible.

"Very well," Nimwen nodded.

Lathbora viran - Rough translation: "The path to a place of lost love" (dragon age wikia)

Ar souveri - I feel tired